I was stopped at the light on Ridge and Grady on my way back from the grocery store with my window half down when a women pulled up next to me in an on Miata convertible with the top down. It was red with an antique plate and patches of paint missing from the bumper. She was slightly ahead of me so I could only see the back of her head as she turned on her radio and "Ooh La La" by the Faces started playing. I turned off my radio and saw her look down and gently bob her head to the music.
I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger
Her light turned green and she drove off. There wasn't really anything remarkable about the encounter except how close we happened to be in that moment. We could've had a conversation without even raising our voices. Like we weren't in these weird domed space ships that zip around and it's easy to imagine that other humans don't even exist.
And then I thought, as I often do, about how I drive in the vehicles that my grandparents owned and I put up the blanket over the back seat that my dad and I put up the first day I got the car.
And then I was frustrated, as I often am, by how weird it is, particularly for guys, to talk about things like intimacy and feeling close to someone. Shout out the lady in the red Miata.
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